The Search for Sirius' Trousers
by emberlivi
Summary: Or what I did on my summer vacation. Two fictional characters sharing in their misery about bad plot, criminal liberties taken with fictional characters, and fangirls...13 year old fangirls.


_Um, yeah the title has nothing to do with the story. I would say this is a humor/angst story myself…_

_This started actually in response to a conversation my friend and I were having about fan fiction, some very bad fan fiction we've discovered over the years. I discovered that my name was very popular in said fan fiction (actually in any fan fiction fandom) along with Sirius. I felt bad for my name and for Sirius. I felt as if I should take him out to dinner and apologize, or at least drink to our misery. Enjoy._

"So what are you having?" he asked, looking over the menu.

I sighed and frowned as I looked over the choices. "I'm not sure—there are so many things to choose from—"

"Exactly, how many hamburgers does one need?" he interrupted and laughed.

I laughed nervously. "I don't know, but this guacamole one sounds pretty good," I replied and closed my menu. "What are you having?"

"Oh, teriyaki burger. I've had it on chicken, but Remus told me I should try it," he answered with a small smile. "Remus was the one who gave me the idea for this, you know," he replied and took a sip of his beer.

"Remus has gone out to dinner?" I asked with astonishment and Sirius nodded. "What? Do literary characters pop out of books everyday and go out for dinner?" I asked and Sirius laughed, which caused those at the table next to us to turn their heads to look at us.

"Only when we feel it _necessary_," he replied as the server arrived.

Sirius and I told the server our orders and we were left once again alone. I truly had no idea why Sirius had brought me here, and I did not why I came. I was at my local library, perusing the books when a book fell upon my head. The book opened and Sirius jumped out. I thought I was unconscious, but Sirius ensured me that, in fact, I was quite awake. It seemed that he found it very important to talk to me, and that we should talk over dinner. Thinking this just a hallucination, I gave in and gave the hallucination my phone number. However, upon returning home that evening Sirius had called and had asked me to join him for dinner the next evening. Thinking I was still under some sort of delusion, I agreed to satisfy my subconscious, but to my horror realized, I had agreed to such date when a motorcycle pulled into my driveway. So, here I am, at a table across from what I thought a fictional character, Sirius Black, as we wait for our dinners at one of those pseudo-mom-and-pop-friendly-neighborhood restaurant chains. I believe I should schedule an appointment with my primary care physician for that psychiatric referral.

"Necessary," I repeated, leaning closer.

Sirius nodded and leaned closer as well. "I'm not sure if I should tell you this, but," he began in a low voice, "after the library closes, some of us go out."

"Go out?" I asked quietly.

He nodded once more and continued, "Yes, leave our stories. We have to sometimes—I left immediately after I found out I died and I didn't come back until a few days later. Others leave because their stories are so horrible, but that mostly happens in those romance novels. We couldn't get the characters from _Bridges of Madison County_ back in their book for weeks."

I laughed, which brought a large grin to his face. "I remember that book," I said and mockingly shivered.

"Oh, so you've read that one?" he asked teasingly.

"It's not something I like to admit," I whispered as I felt my face flush slightly. All those years priding myself on reading the best of fiction, and I waste it by listening to Oprah and throngs of delusional, tasteless single women with cats. "But all of us have something embarrassing in our pasts…I'm sure you have a few embarrassing moments," I added—relieved my face was cooling.

"Only in fan fiction," he replied, "which is why I brought you here."

"You brought me here to discuss fan fiction?" I asked incredulously, narrowing my eyes.

_At least I'm getting a hamburger out this_, I thought, sitting back in the booth. The couple at the table next us were celebrating a birthday and the serving staff were shouting _Happy Birthday_, which temporarily caught Sirius' attention. 

He raised an eyebrow, frowned, muttered something about not having any more birthdays, and then returned his attention to me. "Anyway," he began, leaning forward, "I did bring you here to discuss fan fiction. You know, you Muggles, very clever with that internet."

"You use the internet?" I laughed and laughed again when I realized he had used the term _Muggle_ in an everyday non-Harry Potter fan conversation.

"Of course I do. Do you think I'd want to spend my entire day locked up in a book with Snape? Ugh, his grease oozes through the pages," he remarked and made a face.

"So you really don't like Snape," I said and Sirius responded with a glare of disgust. "I guess not," I muttered and fidgeted in my seat. "Some women do find him sexy, though."

Sirius threw his head back and groaned. "That's why I brought you here," he lamented, still looking up at the ceiling. I noticed he seemed to be momentarily entranced by the model airplane zooming around the ceiling.

"So, you brought me here to tell me that Snape isn't sexy," I said and sighed with some annoyance. "I already know he's not—maybe you should convince some of his fangirls."

Sirius groaned again. "Bloody fangirls—squealing, insipid, bints," he muttered and lifted his head. "I've had enough of them and that's why I brought you here. Every one of those characters those fangirls created are as real as I am," he explained, looking into my eyes—I bit my bottom lip and shifted my gaze to his forehead.

"As real as you?" I asked with some trepidation. The thought of any of my characters as real as Sirius frightened and embarrassed me.

I felt the need to apologize to him immediately, but refrained as he nodded. "Oh, yes," he answered darkly, "I'm subjected to some of the most obnoxious, stupid, silly love interests ever created out of the minds of thirteen year old girls."

"But they're thirteen," I began, "you have to give them some slack. They're not a—how old are you?"

"Thirty-six—according to the book."

"They're not a thirty-six year old man with the lifetime of experience behind them. I mean, they're thirteen," I said, hoping he would understand. Of course, Sirius had never been a thirteen-year-old girl.

Sirius' eyes narrowed as he reached into his jacket. "Oh, it's so easy when the stories aren't written with your name, isn't it? Have you ever searched for your name?" he asked, unfolding a small stack of papers. I shook my head. "Well, I searched for you. Jennifer, isn't it? Here, read," he demanded, thrusting the papers toward me.

Awkwardly, I took the papers from him and began to read—I was not very hungry anymore. "Oh, this is awful," I cringed, tossing the papers back to him. "I can't even finish."

"Yeah, still want to defend those thirteen year old girls?" he teased as he took out his wand. He threw the papers up in the air and incinerated them.

"Sirius!" I scolded—wide-eyed.

"What?" he snorted and placed his wand back in his jacket.

"Never mind," I sighed, shaking my head. "Anyway, what am I supposed to do about this?" I asked, taking a sip of iced tea.

"I want you to write a story," he explained with a small smile, "about me…and a love interest."

I coughed as I swallowed the iced tea. "You want me to write about you and a what?" I asked, placing the glass on the table. 

"A love interest—a girl," he answered—his grin widening. "With your name."

"My name?" I repeated with disbelief. I was not about to insert myself into a story—fictional suicide.

"Yes, your name has been used just as horribly as mine. I'll help," he said happily.

"So, you want me to write a romance story with you and a girl named Jennifer," I replied, slowly swirling the ice around my glass with my straw.

_I'm not going to fulfill some literary character's masturbatory fantasy by some compliant, pleasing feminine creation of my own, ugh and with my name_, I thought and stopped swirling my ice around my glass.

"Oh no, no," he replied, shaking his head, "Not a romance story—that'd be a side story. I want you to write about what I did in the original Order."

 "You didn't have time though, did you?"

"Of course I had time," he replied and winked.

"What if she doesn't like you? What if she pops out of my laptop and tells me she wants a different male character as her love interest?" I asked and smiled. He came to me, begging for a story, should not she have the same right too?

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Like she'd want anyone else," he remarked dismissively. "Come on, you've read what the author said about me—"    

"Of course I have, but we do like stability," I interrupted, realizing what I had just said made me a hypocrite. Of course, I liked the dangerous bad boys—my last four boyfriends were proof of this. "Anyway, I'll have to know what you specifically did with the original Order," I continued, changing the uncomfortable subject.

Sirius smiled wryly, obviously inferring he had touched a sensitive subject. "I tell you what I did later, but there are a few misconceptions that must be cleared before we start anything," he said, leaning forward. "Pet peeves really."

"I bet I can think of a few," I said, leaning closer.

"I suppose you can," he sighed and furrowed his eyebrows. "First off, I wasn't a bloody idiot—I got Outstanding on all my O.W.L.'s and I had to have those marks to become a curse-breaker…well, that's what I wanted to do before…you know," he explained solemnly and took another sip of beer. "Second, I'd like to meet all these women I've slept with, which goes along with my next point—I'd like to meet all these children too. Bloody hell, I'd be bloody poor if I had to support all those children," he continued and bit the inside of his cheek.

I leaned back in my seat and laughed. "This will be a coming of age story?" I quipped and took a sip of iced tea.

Sirius' expression hardened. "I'm thirty-six—I lost my virginity a long time ago," he replied, frowning. "Anyway, to continue, I'm not a stupid sidekick that stuffs his face full of sweets and calls James Prongsie—he hates that more than I do. I couldn't be bothered with most of the girls at Hogwarts, but _I'm not bloody gay_. If you want gay, Gilderoy Bloody Lockhart—_lilac_ I ask you. Remus is a brother to me; I wouldn't be sleeping with a brother now would I?"

"Some people have written such stories," I interrupted and Sirius made a face. "They say there's evidence for you and Remus—"

"Oh, _evidence_. Yes, I've read the _evidence_. I'm thought to be a mass murderer and I was in hiding. He went and bought the books for me…as if I could have gone to Diagon Alley myself. 'Hi, I'm Sirius Black; I'd like to buy books for my godson, Harry Potter. Would you be of some help?' Yeah, I could have paraded myself right through Diagon Alley without the suspicion of detection," he replied, folding his arms.

"You're right—"

"Of course I am," he interrupted and unfolded his arms. Leaning closer once more he continued, "Also, I can't get pregnant—I'm a man! I've had a scare or two when I was younger to know how babies were made."

I laughed and smiled. "So you admit there could be the possibility of little Sirius Blacks running around," I replied and took another sip of iced tea.

 "I said _scare_—just a scare. Believe me, I was bloody careful after that," he replied, frowning. "It's physically and magically impossible for a man to become pregnant."

"You don't have to tell me, I know…had a few scares myself," I replied as the server came with our plates.

Sirius poked at his food and took a bite of French fry. "Well, I hope you enjoy yours."

As we ate, he continued to tell me of his hatred of his family and his astonishment that anyone would pair him in a sexual relationship with his cousins. However, he was more disgusted by fan fiction authors pairing him with Snape than any of his pet peeves (and did he have many) combined. He became so loud and angry that I was afraid the management would ask us to leave, and I hid my face with my hand. One woman actually covered her young child's ears so he would not hear and repeat the crude things Sirius uttered. We finished our messy hamburgers, and to my surprise, he paid. I wondered how he would pay for the meal, but he pulled his wand from his jacket and transfigured two sugar packets into two, twenty-dollar bills. Visibly pleased with himself that I found it entertaining, he asked if we would like to continue our conversation—more specifically, on our collaborative work.

After an exhilarating motorcycle ride on a dangerously winding road and up into the night sky, he drove to my home where we went inside to discuss more about our collaboration. As we sat in my living room, I observed the character I was to be writing about—I wanted to be as truthful as I possibly could. Indeed, he was arrogant, but he was charming as well, which made it difficult not to like him. He was an excellent storyteller, detailing his life in the original Order of the Phoenix and the great adventures he had with James. I had to admit, I was enjoying my time, and did not hesitate when he asked if it was all right for him to stay longer for research purposes.

Obviously, I should have understood what he had meant by _research_, but sometimes I do not understand myself. Sometimes I can be so—so—hell, I cannot explain why I did that, and I surely cannot explain it logically to anyone. I blame it on the damn motorcycle ride. He was still there too, sleeping—rather softly snoring—into the pillow next to me. Maybe if I had nudged him he would have woken up, but then he might have wanted me to make him breakfast. I decided to lie there, pretending I was asleep in the hope he would quietly leave. However, looking at the clock, I frowned as I realized that the library had opened, and the librarians would surely have noticed Sirius Black walking through the front doors.

Therefore, I decided to let him sleep as I showered and dressed. As I promised, I immediately went to work at my laptop, creating the story we had outlined before our research interrupted us. However, as I started to type the beautiful female character, my conscience seeped in—I could not write a character for the sole purpose of his carnal enjoyment. Eventually, he would tire of her and of the storyline and demand another female character or another plot written for him. Of course, it would require more research, and I would have him snoring or overtaking my bed—even though I did have a lot of fun on the back of the motorcycle. Sighing forlornly, I knew I had to make the correct decision.

Turning from my desk, I looked at the blissfully asleep and satisfied Sirius. "I'm sorry, Sirius, but it is for the best," I whispered and turned back to my laptop screen.

Immediately, I set to work on a story where Sirius was transformed into a thirteen-year-old girl.

The End

_I hope you enjoyed it. Don't worry, Ebb and Flow 45 will be done soon! I was taking a break. _


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